Perdonami
by Meles
Summary: It was September 8, 1943 when Italy chose to finally surrender to America. Germany, blinded by loyalty to his boss and pain over Italy's betrayal, turns on the Italian and invades Rome. Romano, seeing no other alternate, takes Italy's place and declares war on the one his brother used to call 'friend.' -Rated T for language-
1. Prolouge

July 10, 1943

Italy turned away from his now former leader. Without saying a word, he left. He made a good distance away from the site of his boss's capture before collapsing. Witnessing the capture of his boss and knowing what was going to happen to him in the end had caused Italy to feel sick. His whole body was racked with pain and was constantly shaking from all of the vomit escaping him. What he had just done and what he was going to do was irreversible now. There was no going back.


	2. Surrender

September 8, 1943

With Mussolini in prison, General Pietro Badoglio had taken his place by the request of King Victor Emanuel. It was then when Italy began meeting with America and his own boss, General Eisenhower. They had been meeting each other for weeks until both Italy and his boss finally approved of their surrender.

"So you'll help?" Italy's voice was full of uncertainty as the American stood before him, taking his words into consideration.

It seemed to be a whole lifetime until America finally smiled one of usual smiles and said, "Alright. We'll help you."

Italy suddenly brightened up. "R-Really?"

America nodded and Italy thanked him. America then went on to say that the Allies would land in Salerno. He then stopped in the middle of explaining to ask if Romano would be okay with this due to Salerno being located in Southern Italy. Italy gave him a half smile and said that Romano would be overjoyed to see it happen. America was delighted upon hearing this news and promised that the Allies would drive Germany away using what his boss called 'Operation Avalanche.'

Italy suddenly winced as if the thought of his former Axis member was like being stabbed. When America tilted his head in confusion, Italy covered it up by covering his mouth and pretending to cough. When America bought it and turned the other way, Italy frowned. Though the land of Italy may have surrendered for a different reason then Italy himself, Italy had surrendered because he saw what Germany was doing to all of those people. He saw what path Germany's boss was leading him down and that it was wrong and it had to stop. Italy knew had to save the one who had saved him all those years ago, even if he had to betray him in the process.

"Perdonami Germania..." Italy whispered into his hand. *

* * *

_(According to Google Translate)_

_*Perdonami Germania... : 'Forgive me Germany...'_


	3. Traitor

"Traitor!"

The word cut deep into Italy's heart. He had been called that name a few times in the past, but _never_ by Germany.

Italy glanced up to the man that towered over him. His sky blue eyes were filled with pain and anger. The wounds that he had received over the time period of this war were more vibrant and new looking than usual. Italy let out a shaky breath. Though it was the beginning of September, the air seemed cold and thick. It took Italy forever to just find his voice.

"Germany...I'm...I'm so sorry."

"You're betraying me!" His voice was thick with a growing hatred.

"I'm only doing what is right..."

"I _never_ should have trusted you! I'm ashamed to call you my former ally!"

"Germany, listen!" Italy cried, growing desperate for the one he still considered a friend to listen to him.

"I won't listen to anything you have to say!"

"Germany, please! Your boss is-" He searched for the right words. "Your boss is bad! Very, very bad! If you don't do something about it soon, you'll end up getting hurt! Or worse! You'll-!"

"No! He is saving my country!" Germany yelled. "You're a nation, aren't you!? Start acting like it! You know that we are to follow our bosses until we die whether we like it or not!"

Italy frowned. "I know who I am and what I represent. I know that we fought together and bandaged each others wounds. I know..." Italy trailed off, looking down to his own hands. The fact that Germany had bandaged them himself made this all the more painful. "I know that we're friends, but what you're doing, right now, Germany...is _wrong_. You can't do this anymore. Germany, please! Back out of this war! Surrender to America!" Italy pleaded.

_"Nein!"_ Germany slipped into his native tongue and continued on in harsh German. It was strange how a language that the Italian thought was so beautiful could turn so violent and cold. "You said that we were friends and that we'd fight together as allies, but now this!? You turn around and throw me away!? Just like that!?"

"No, Germany! I-I'm not throwing you away!" Italy tried to reach for his hand, but the German backed away and pulled out a gun.

Italy instantly froze. For the second time in forever, Germany was aiming a gun to Italy's head.

"...Germania..." Italy found himself speaking Italian.

Germany did nothing but frown and pull the trigger.


	4. Invasion

Romano, in the absence of Italy, had began to talk to America about their conditions of their surrender. Sure Romano wasn't all that happy about their surrender, but if it got Italy away from Germany then it was fine. Romano would basically do anything to keep the German from hurting his brother (even though he wouldn't even dare to admit that to anyone). So, to see Badoglio suddenly reenter the room with an unconscious Italy in his arms, caused his heart to skip a beat.

"What the hell?" Romano instantly ran up to them. "W-What happened to him!?"

"Don't worry." His boss quickly replied. "He doesn't appear to be wounded, just unconscious is all."

Romano thought for a little bit before looking back up to his boss. "This is because of that damn German again. Isn't it?"

His boss grew silent before softly nodding. "Yes."

America suddenly looked up from where he was sitting, his blue eyes wide. "Whoa! What?"

Badoglio looked to the side. "Well-"

Romano, who had begun to try to take Italy from his boss's arms, suddenly froze. He suddenly felt a throbbing pain in his heart. With brown-green eyes wide, he coughed, trying to regain his breath. What the hell? What was happening? With an uneasy hand, he reached for his chest. He looked to Italy, to see that his brother's entire body was lightly twitching.

"Lovino? What's wrong?"

Romano struggled to answer. "M-My chest-" He suddenly shook his head. "I'm fine!"

Suddenly, a man wearing an Italian uniform that looked much like Italy's entered the room. His eyes were wide and his breaths were quick and deep. He looked anxious, but once he saw America, he seemed to hesitate. The man eventually tore his gaze away from the American and to Badoglio. "General Badoglio! I'm sorry to interrupt, but the Germans are invading Italy! What are we supposed to do?"

At this, America stood from his seat. "What?" The few Americans he had brought with him seemed just as surprised.

"Invading Italy?" Romano repeated the words, not sure if he heard right.

What was that stupid German thinking!? His brother wanted peace, that's all. He had proved that much when he surrendered and backed out of the war. Wasn't it clear that he didn't want to fight anymore?

Romano scowled at the thought of it and he clenched his fists. "These stupid Germans are ruining everything!"

Romano's boss suddenly turned to him. "Lovino. Calm down. We need to address the matter at hand and get the royal family out of Rome."

Romano nodded, knowing that he was right. Okay. Germany was invading Italy. They needed to get out. Where? Where? "We can go to Brindisi. We can figure out this whole new antifascist government thing there." Romano was surprised that he had said this, but chose not to show it.

His boss didn't seem to notice Romano's uneasiness as he slightly nodded. "Right." He then turned to the Italian in the doorway. "Get the royal family! We have to evacuate now!" He ordered.

The man nodded and quickly left. America, looking rather serious, turned to his fellow Americans. He then gave them an order to follow and all quickly did as they were told before showing their signs of respect. Soon, the only people in the room were Badoglio and the Italian brothers, one conscious and the other dead to the world.

After a moment of silence, Badoglio handed Italy over to Romano. "Don't worry. We'll try to hold Germany off and keep Feliciano's heart beating. You just have to keep his body safe. Alright?"

Romano took Italy from his boss's arms. He looked down to his younger brother and frowned. God, he looked pathetic right now. His usual bright and smiling face was now replaced with one that was an unsettling pale and still. He took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes sir."

"Very good." And with that, his boss turned and left the brothers behind.

Now that he was alone, Romano allowed himself to sigh. He looked down to Italy again and blinked. He then began to slowly stroke his brother's soft chocolate colored hair. Though he was overall worried for his brother's sake, hatred was boiling up inside of Romano's heart. He finally looked away from his brother's fragile face and scowled. "Don't worry, Veneziano. I'll get back at him for this. I promise."


	5. War

September 18, 1943

It had already been ten days sense Italy and Romano left Rome behind, but Italy had still not shown any signs of waking up. This alone had caused Romano to worry even more. Badoglio had said he hadn't found any wounds or additional scars on Italy, so why hadn't he woken up yet? Eisenhower, America's boss, had suggested that it was because of Rome being occupied by Germany. After all, America had experienced something similar when his capitol building was burned by the British in 1812. Romano could only wonder if this was true.

"What have you gotten us into, Veneziano?" Romano asked him.

Romano's only reply was the sound of his brother's breathing. Romano sighed and looked to the ceiling. Damn it. Why was it like this? Romano hated that he couldn't do anything. He couldn't even have one of his famous tantrums; Badoglio said that it might effect Italy and the best thing to do was to stay calm. So, in the end, all Romano could do was sit here while Eisenhower tried to work something out with Badoglio. He hated feeling so goddamn useless.

Suddenly, Romano's train of thought was interrupted when America came into the room. He wasn't wearing his usual smile, which was understandable (kinda). Instead his expression was serious and his eyes were more focused than usual. He gave Romano a half smile and a small wave before saying, "Hey." Romano turned away from him, which caused the American to sulk for a second before trying again. "Hey."

"What do you want?"

"I got bored."

Romano rolled his eyes. Could this guy be anymore delusional? "And you expect me to entertain you?"

America shook his head. "No. I just want to ask you something."

"Then why didn't you say that when I asked you the first time?"

America shrugged and Romano groaned. "Fine. What is it?"

"Is he okay?" America asked, pointing to Italy.

Hearing this, Romano paused. He looked uncertainly to Italy, unsure of what to say. America then entered the room fully and shut the door quietly behind him. He returned his gaze to Romano before hesitating. Then he began to walk forward, right to the bed where Italy was lying. Romano watched the younger nation closely before blocking his path. "What are you doing?"

America put his hands on his hips. "Dude. We're on the same side now. Chill." He then lightly brushed Romano out of his way before bending down. He turned his head to the side and placed it down on Italy's chest. Romano was confused. Why was he listening to his heartbeat? Suddenly, America sighed and gave Romano another half smile. He then straightened up and took a step away from Italy. "Don't worry, bro. He'll be okay."

"What?" Romano asked, surprised that the American could even guess what was on his mind.

"I can sense the mood when I want or when I have to. Right now, I have to otherwise it will get too awkward if I don't."

Romano frowned and looked away. "Whatever. Can you just go away now?"

America titled his head in confusion."Why do you wanna be by yourself? Isn't it better to worry with someone?"

He sighed and looked down to his feet before shrugging. "I don't know."

Apparently in American, this meant 'Fine. You can stay if you want.' because America sat down on the floor next to Romano, looking satisfied. Romano rolled his eyes, knowing how stubborn this guy could be. Once he decided something, nothing could change his mind. So, after pouting for a second or two about America's presence, he sat down next to the blonde.

For awhile, there was just silence. They didn't say anything and Romano guessed that there was nothing to say. America then turned to Romano, blue eyes shining. "So what are we going to do? Or..." America pointed a gloved finger to the door. "...what do you think they're going to do?"

"I don't know."

"Well, what do you want to do?"

Romano stopped to think. What _did_ he want to do? When they had left Rome behind and came to Brindisi, Romano learned that Germany and his boss, Adolf Hitler, had been planning to invade and occupy Italy since Mussolini had begun to falter. Of course this news caused the anger and hate that Romano felt towards Germany to grow even more. How could he have planned this? Italy had been his friend and yet he was invading his lands without any sort of hesitation. In Romano's opinion it was unforgivable. Then it hit him. He knew what he wanted to do. So, without any hesitation or second thoughts, he turned to America. "I want to go to war."

America seemed surprised. "What?"

"You heard me."

"But, isn't the war the reason you surrendered in the first place?"

"Well yeah, but this is unforgivable." Romano then turned away from the American. "I want to make that German pay for hurting my fratello."

"Do you think that's what Badoglio wants?"

"I have no idea."

"Well, what if your brother wakes up and is against it?"

Romano sighed. "Then I won't do anything."

America looked to Italian, unsure that this was the right thing. Well, when he actually thought about it, he realized that if Romano and his boss were willing to compromise and were willing to help, they could get Germany to surrender quicker. Then all they would have to worry about was Japan. Maybe this was the right thing to do. Still feeling a little unsure, America nodded. "Let's just wait and see what they say then."

Little did they know, Romano would get what he wanted. Nearly a month later, on October 13, Badoglio was willing to cooperate with the Allies so they could get Rome back. Romano was finally able to declare war on Germany so he could save his brother. But, while the slow race for Rome's freedom was taking place, Italy's eyes finally opened. Italy found that he was alone.

"Germania?"


	6. Wounded

Italy winced as he sat up. His whole body was aching. When he tried to stand, he found that his heart was throbbing with pain. He lightly placed his hand over his chest and looked around. Where was he? As he walked out of the room, he had to use the wall as support. He pushed the door open and saw that no one else was to be seen. Italy was alone.

"Ciao?" He called in Italian. "C'è qualcuno qui?"*

Getting no answer, he returned to the room he woke up in. He frowned as he made his way to the window. He pulled the curtains away and saw that he was still in Italy. Okay. Good. He knew where he was (sorta). But how had he got there? The last thing he remembered was Germany. Wait. Where was Germany? Italy instantly knew that something wasn't right. Why was his heart hurting? Why wasn't he in Rome? Why was he alone?

Then the sound of a door opening and slamming shut broke through his thoughts. He heard voices and they were speaking Italian. Italy turned around to go and meet them, but instead found himself staring into a familiar face. His expression, however, was not at all familiar. What the boy did afterwords, brought some shock to the Italian; he never expected Romano to hug him so tightly. With Romano's arms around him, Italy realized that his older brother was trembling slightly. He looked down and found that he had a military uniform on which was strange; Romano never did the fighting. It was always Italy. So, why did he have a uniform on? Or, a better question was, how did he get all of these wounds? Bandages covered the older sibling from head to toe, making him look like an absolute wreck. What was going on?

"F-Fratello?" Italy finally found his voice.

Romano pulled away from him and scowled. "Don't you ever do something that stupid again, you bastard! You hear me?"

Italy was now even more confused. "Don't do what?"

"When you left to go to Germany, he shot you! You have been unconscious for a month!"

"A month?" This news was a shock, but something else that Romano said, confused him. "Germany shot me?"

"Well, that's what we thought."

Italy frowned and shook his head. "No he didn't."

Now it was Romano's turn to be confused. "What?"

"Where is he? Where's Germany? What happened? Where are we?" As questions flooded out of Italy, Romano remained confused.

Eventually, the latter decided that he'd just have to tell his brother what happened. Damn it. This wasn't going to be easy. Romano sighed and placed his hands firmly on Italy's fragile shoulders. Italy watched his brother, confused and curious. "I declared war on Germany."

"What?"

"He invaded Rome. He was killing you! What did you want me to do?"

"Where is he?"

"Why do you care?"

"He's my-"

"He could have killed you and if you let yourself fall for his ways, he will!" Romano yelled. "Don't be so naive, Veneziano!"

Italy's eyes widened and he looked to the floor. "Did he...cause that...?" Italy whispered, lightly running his fingers over some of Romano's bandages.

Romano was silent before shaking his head. "One of those other Germans did it."

Italy silently nodded. Romano sighed. God fucking damn it! He knew he'd regret telling Italy _that_! Romano frowned, not sure of how he should console his little brother. Okay. What would Italy do if Spain suddenly stopped talking to him? Romano looked away and knew that, in a situation like that, Italy would tell him to smile and pour all of his warm and loving personality into him. Well, that was the thing. Romano didn't have a warm and loving personality. He had an awkward and angry one. In short, he sucked.

His thoughts were interrupted when Italy's silence turned to a small sound of weeping. Romano flinched and looked to him. Italy was crying. Italy was crying. Oh God, Italy was _crying_! What the hell was he supposed to do now!? Well, there was only thing. Romano gave a heavy sigh and sat on the bed. He pulled Italy down with him and pulled him close. Italy's soft whimpers then grew into sobs. Romano pulled his brother to his chest even closer. He closed his eyes and rubbed his brother's hair. Romano knew that he couldn't really blame Italy; he just lost his two best friends for who knew how long.

Romano lightly kissed Italy's hair and whispered a lame apology, telling him it was going to be okay. So, this was all Romano could do for his brother, huh? Just pull him close and let him cry his heart out when things went bad? He sighed again as he knew that the answer was 'yes.' Romano rubbed his brother's back as he wondered something.

"Why is Veneziano the one to get wounded all the time?"

* * *

_According to Google Translate:  
_

_*__C'è qualcuno qui? : Is anyone here?_


	7. Lonlieness

Italy simply refused to fight in the war, partially out of fear of seeing Germany again. So, it was all Romano. Italy still felt the pain. He still felt the loss. It was like a hollow feeling that wouldn't go away. It was so bad Italy could easily compare it to the pain he felt during the first world war. Eventually, however, the pain dulled. It was either because Romano was beating Germany or Italy had just gotten used to it all. Either way, Italy couldn't feel anymore. But, with time, his pain subsided and the emptiness inside him was filled with life again. At least, it almost was. It was still partially empty and the Italian really didn't know why. All he could do was wonder. It was until May, two years or so later, when he realized the reason for his loneliness.

It was at Reims, in Northwestern France. America was there along with Russia, France, and Romano too. But, there was someone else. It was Germany and it was now his turn to surrender to America. At first, Germany was hesitant. He had been hoping that he would only have to stop fighting the allies to the west of his country, but America said otherwise.

"No. It will be a complete surrender of all German forces." America frowned harshly at the German and for a moment, it seemed that he was the older one. "If you don't surrender fully, General Eisenhower and I are ready to seal of the Western front and we both know you don't want that."

Germany frowned, hesitation in his sky blue eyes. Italy stared helplessly at his friend, unable to heal his mental wounds even if he was only a few feet away. Germany gave a small sigh and asked if he could radio his boss. By this time, Hitler was dead. Italy heard that he, along with his new wife, committed suicide when they heard that Mussolini had been assassinated. Romano said they did it to avoid being captured by Russia. Italy could only feel shocked by Hitler's death. He hadn't been close to him, but Italy knew it was a different story with Germany.

Anyway, once America allowed Germany to radio his new boss, they found Germany being ordered to sign. So, with Russia and France, along with their generals as witnesses, Germany signed it with a quick and swift hand. Italy watched, breathlessly, as Germany set the pen down and looked away. It was over. It took awhile, but it was over. Italy felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his already heavy shoulders and that he could finally smile. But, when Italy tried to go over to Germany to ask if he was okay, Germany gave him a look that sent chills down the Italian's spine and caused him to freeze.

"Don't touch me."

That was all he said and that's all that was said between them. Italy just couldn't find his voice. He couldn't find the right words to say back. He just froze. Romano instantly made it over to him. Once he got there, he shielded his brother from the German. His actions almost said the same thing. Don't touch us. Don't touch him. Italy's brown eyes felt watery. He looked away from his friend and to the floor.

He didn't understand. It was over wasn't it? Weren't they allowed to stop fighting now? They could finally smile again. So why was Germany being this way? Why did he push him away? Why? Why? The question repeated itself in Italy's head over and over, desperate for an answer. Italy found none. But, I guess that's not entirely true; Italy did find one answer amongst all of this new pain.

Germany was the reason for the loneliness in his heart.


	8. Perdonami

Decades. That's how long it had been since Germany had even looked Italy's way. At first, Italy was desperate for any sort of sign that said the German still cared for him. Time and time again, he tried. Germany would just shut him out. It came to the point where Italy just gave up. He didn't even want to try anymore. Ever since the war ended, the governments of the two countries didn't want to agree with each other. It did not help when the Italian people made it clear that they didn't want to be an alliance with the Germans. So, seeing no other alternate, he decided that he'd just leave Germany alone.

After all, who'd want him as a friend anyway? He was weak. He fell asleep in the middle of lectures. He didn't follow orders. And he ran away with one small sight of England coming near him. It was a wonder that Germany even considered him a good ally at one point. It made Italy wonder why he just hadn't shot him when he had the chance. Why didn't he shoot him the day he surrendered?

* * *

September 8, 1943

"Germania..." Italy had whispered in his native tongue when Germany had aimed his gun, ready to shoot him.

Italy closed his eyes tightly, his body bracing itself for the pain to come. Germany aimed. And pulled the trigger. Italy's eyes widened. His heart skipped a beat. "Why did you...?" He slurred, feeling a little light headed.

Germany had sighed heavily. His sky blue eyes were clouded with doubt. "I could never shoot you. As much as I have to, I can't..." Germany tore his eyes away from where he shot the ground to Italy before dropping his gun. "Get out while you can."

Italy wanted to say more, but he found that he couldn't. The edges of things had suddenly begun to get all black and fuzzy. There had been a small ringing in Italy's ears that wouldn't leave. A large wave had then washed over him and he stumbled. "...Germany..." The next thing they knew, Italy was on the ground.

"Italy!" Germany had ran up to him. "What the hell are you doing?"

"...I-I'm sorry...G-Germany..." His voice was under a whisper.

"What's wrong?" Getting no further response,Germany shook Italy violently. "Italy!"

* * *

Italy flinched at the memory and buried his face in his pillows.

Why did everything have to be so complicated?

Then that's when he heard it. The sound of someone knocking on the front door. Italy remained still as he heard Romano answer it. Then there was shouting. There was even a time when Romano's voice cracked, a thing that hadn't occurred in years. Italy listened to the argument until he heard it become dead silent. Italy perked up and crept over to the door. He put his ear up against the wall and listened. There was nothing.

SLAM!

Italy jumped and even cried out a little. The Italian then made the quick decision to go see what had happened. He rushed downstairs to find Romano. His back was against the door and his breaths were deep and quick. "R-Romano? What happened?"

"It was that stupid German. He wanted to see you," Romano turned around so he could look his brother in the eye. "He wanted to talk to you after he shot you! Can you believe that!?"

Italy's eyes widened. Germany wanted to see him? Now? After decades of shutting him out, Germany was finally opening back up to him? "Why did you let him go?"

Romano looked at him like he was crazy. "He _shot _you!"

Italy frowned as he remembered that he never really told Romano what had happened. Still, he shook his head as if Romano should've known anyway. "No he didn't!"

"What?"

Italy, not wanting to explain, pointed at the door. "Let me go."

"No!"

"Romano!"

"I don't care how much you want to see him, I'm not letting you! You might as well forget he ever existed!"

"No!"

"Yes."

Italy normally wouldn't really be the one to start anything, especially with Romano because he knew that there was no way he'd win. But now, he didn't care. So, he hit him.

Romano's eyes widened before his hand gently met his face. "The hell, Veneziano?"

"Let me see him." Italy's voice was surprisingly firm.

"No!"

Italy frowned and shoved past him.

"Wait! Veneziano!"

As soon as Italy opened the door, cold air rushed to meet him. He shivered for a second but soon brushed it off and ran. He was running so slow. He then tried to force himself to believe that England was behind him. This thought alone, caused Italy to run even faster. With fear beside him, he ran. Faster. Faster. Faster. The cold air tore at his eyes, causing him to tear up. Still, he ran. It felt like an eternity until he suddenly saw someone. Brown eyes widening, more tears came. He called out his name, and just when the man turned around, Italy hugged him tightly as if to never let him go.

Germany flinched and looked down to the Italian. "Italien?"

Italy looked up to him, brown eyes meeting blue."I love Germany! I really, really do! I love you!"

Germany just stood there awkwardly. It had been a long time since he got one of _these_, let alone see Italy. He sighed. "Could you please let go?"

Italy shook his head rapidly and buried his face in the German's shirt. "Perdonami!"*

Germany blinked. What did that mean in Italian again? Something to do with apologizing? Germany sighed, and just decided to hug Italy back. That was the only thing he could do until Italy would decide to let go. But, he didn't. He just stood there, hugging him. He was shivering, but the Italian didn't seem to care. He just kept whispering the same word over and over. After awhile, Germany decided that this lasted long enough. "What are you doing, Italy?"

"We can love. And we can hate." Italy whispered.

Germany blinked a few times. "Are you still talking about the World War? That's been over for a long time, Italy."

Italy shook his head as if telling him, 'let me finish.' "I know that you were doing what you thought was right and I know that our people are not seeing eye to eye now. I know that, in the end, the choice is not ours. Though we bare the weight of being a nation on our fragile shoulders, it is the ones who control us who make the final decision and it is they who we fight for...so..." He trailed off before looking back up to Germany again. "So, tell me you didn't mean it! Tell me that no matter what happens, we can still be friends! Because I love you! I'll love you forever and ever, Germany! So, please forgive me."

Germany sighed. "We can't be friends. My new boss probably won't approve of it. Don't you remember what happened in Rome?"

"I don't care! Please just let me know that you didn't mean it!" Italy looked ready to burst into tears again, he was shaking so badly.

Germany stared at Italy for awhile before hugging a little tighter. "How are you always able to tell what I'm thinking like that?"

"I've already told you."

"Well, it's going to be awhile before our bosses forgive each other. You do know that, right?"

"I don't care." Italy whispered again. "Per favore perdonami, Germania"*

Germany stroked Italy's hair for awhile. He had no idea what Italy was saying, but he could make an educated guess. He was probably saying he was sorry, or something similar to it. "It's okay. I forgive you."

* * *

_According to Google Translate:  
_

_*Perdonami : Forgive me_

_** Per favore perdonami, Germania : Please forgive me, Germany_

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**First off, let me make it clear that I am a TERRIBLE Romano and Germany role player. Thankfully, my sister isn't. So, she helped me a little bit here and there with Germany and Romano. Go to her profile. Her name is PastaLover5000. She's pretty good at making serious fanfiction and right now she is writing one for America and Canada as they struggle with gaining thier independence from England. Isn't that great?**

**Second, I really want to thank you for reading all of this. It's something that has been in my head for awhile and I hope to write more stuff like this that all of you can enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. All characters belong to their respected owners.**

**Once again, Grazie and, until the next one, Ciao!**


End file.
